


this is our night there's no where else i'd rather be

by bowlingfornerds



Series: tumblr prompts [12]
Category: The 100
Genre: Accidental Marriage, Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Vegas, F/M, Vegas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-20
Updated: 2015-09-20
Packaged: 2018-04-22 12:39:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4835687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bowlingfornerds/pseuds/bowlingfornerds
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A tumblr prompt from thediaryofanerdygirlygirl: Bellamy and Clarke get drunk and get married in Vegas and decide to stay married because they're secretly in love with each other and now they have to explain it to all of their friends..</p><p>Vegas, drinking, and best friends (who are both a little bit in love with each other) is either a terrible mix, or absolutely fantastic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	this is our night there's no where else i'd rather be

Raven had planned the trip to Vegas for about a year and a half before it actually happened. This gave Clarke a lot of time to pack and research and generally make sure that Vegas was going to be a good choice for her. She knew that she had the tendency to get drunk and gamble away her life savings – and she’d tried to do it at least four times since Raven had first announced the idea. The only person who stopped her was Bellamy, her best friend.

So, it was pretty fitting that she had decided to practically latch herself to his side throughout the trip. He hadn’t complained, even once, just sent her a raised eyebrow every now and again, or smirked when she chose to follow him into a casino or something. But it felt right to her; Raven had once cheered her on when she had tried to bet two grand on a flip-cup competition, and Octavia had been all for her wagering her inheritance on a game of beer pong.

Besides, Clarke was just a little bit in love with Bellamy.

But that was neither here nor there.

The trip was to last a week, and it was day four when Bellamy wrapped his arm around her shoulders and suggested they get well and truly drunk in the Rose Casino’s bar. She had grinned and agreed – not before handing him her wallet, which he stuck in his pocket with a knowing smile.

An hour and a half later, they were completely smashed.

“You know,” Clarke slurred, leaning across the table to be closer to Bellamy. He was unfairly handsome, and she truly believed he knew it. There was no way he couldn’t. Back home he would have a string of girls, following in his wake – and his girlfriend of two weeks had practically sucked his face off at the airport. “When you moved in across the hall, I had a massive crush on you.” Bellamy raised his eyebrows, too drunk to pull off his signature smirk.

“Really, Princh-Prinss-Princess?” He asked, leaning towards her. She nodded sagely, scooting her chair towards his around the table.

“Like, horribly. A crush of magnitudinal proportions.” Bellamy laughed; deep and beautiful and Clarke wanted to kiss him. She really and truly did.

“When’d it stop?” He asked, draining his glass.

“Who said it stopped?” Clarke was genuinely confused for a minute, furrowing her brow – had she told him she stopped liking him? That wasn’t the truth whatsoever. In fact, her crush had practically grown three times its size the day she walked into his apartment and he only had a towel around his waist. If she had thought he was good-looking before-

“It didn’t stop?”

“It would never stop, Bell.” She watched his Adam’s apple as he swallowed and then her gaze darted to his lips.

“You have a crush on me?” His words were too slurred for her to truly understand, but she believed she caught the gist. Instead of replying, she surged forward, capturing his lips in hers. It was messy, wet and she bit his tongue more than once. But he reacted with the same heat; pushing forwards and making the exaggerated moans of a drunk best friend who had been wanting this for a long time.

 

When Clarke woke up the next morning, surprisingly warm for a girl who was always cold, she remembered the entire night with stunning clarity. Her head also pounded like nobody’s business, but she swallowed through the pain. As Clarke shifted, she was met with a groan, her head snapping towards the sound.

Next to her laid Bellamy Blake, best friend, last night’s hook up, and – if she remembered rightly – new husband. Clarke shot a glance to his left hand, draped over her body and tugging her closer to his chest. As she expected, his ring finger was adorned with a cheap, crappy ring from the Casino gift shop. It had a carving across the metal, which she knew would read ‘Rose Casino, Las Vegas’ and she was fairly sure that her one was identical.

The heat she had been feeling was coming from Bellamy, also. He was a human furnace – something she’d found out during the winter beforehand when the heating in her and Raven’s apartment had broken, and she spent it wrapped up in multiple layers, a couple of blankets, and Bellamy’s reluctant arms. But it was nothing like this. Back then, they had thick layers of fabric between them – now they had nothing. It was skin on skin contact; his naked chest pressed against her back, and their bare legs intertwined.

“Bell,” she hissed, squirming in his grasp. “Bell, wake up.” Bellamy made a noise that sounded like a groan and a hum, mixed together, and shifted his weight on the mattress.

“Five more minutes,” he murmured, pressing his face against the skin of her back. Clarke shivered at the contact; she knew she’d wanted this for so long, but it felt truly lost from her reach now that it was happening after a drunken night in Vegas. A part of her wanted to relish in the moment before Bellamy jumped back in surprise, but the rest of her knew what was right.

“No, Bell, wake up,” she replied sternly. Bellamy did jerk back, like she’d expected, and his arm went with him, leaving her surprisingly cold without the contact. He rubbed blearily at his eyes and Clarke squinted at him as he tried to sit up. There was a crack in the curtains, and the morning sun was streaming through the window; it illuminated his dark curls like a halo, and Clarke wondered how someone could seem so holy at such an ungodly hour.

“Shit,” he complained when he looked down at her. Clarke pulled the duvet up over her chest as she sat up next to him.

“Shit,” she agreed, reaching over him and lifting up his left hand for him to see. Clarke was never one for gently giving news – she preferred to rip the plaster off and let the pain be short and sharp. She watched carefully, though, as Bellamy studied the ring. She watched as he turned to look at her, and then to her left hand, and back to his once more.

“Shit,” he repeated. He sighed deeply, running a hand through his curls and glancing over to her. “How much do you remember?” His voice was a little loud on the question and they both winced at the sound.

“All of it,” she replied. Clarke had an uncanny ability to remember her drunkenness; it was never blacked out to her, no matter how much she wished it would be. Bellamy nodded like this was the answer he was expecting.

“Okay, then can you tell me who proposed – because I have a girlfriend back in Ark.” Clarke winced once more, this time over the concept of Roma being a person in Bellamy’s life. She sighed, deciding to adopt a light tone and hoping to pass the night over as a joking memory for them to remember.

“You want to know if it’s worse if you proposed, or if I did and you still accepted?” Bellamy snorted, despite himself, flopping back onto the bed.

“Yeah – I feel like if I proposed, I’m a worse person than if you did and I was too drunk to say no.” Clarke narrowed her eyes at him for a moment, and his widened as he realised what he’d said. “That’s not what I meant!” He added. “I mean there’s probably different levels of cheating that’s involved, and physically proposing to another girl probably trumps all others.” Clarke nodded, looking away from him and to the beige-and-white themed hotel room.

“I get it,” she replied. Because she did. She got Bellamy – always had since she met him. They got each other and that’s why they were best friends. Clarke flung her legs over the side of the bed, pulled the duvet along with her and wrapping it around her body as she wandered in search for her clothes.

“Hey!” Bellamy complained as the covers were torn away from his naked form. She stooped down, picking up a pair of his boxers, strewn across the floor, and chucked them back in his direction without looking. It didn’t matter that she could remember last night and the way he’d kissed a path down her chest, or the way he’d entered her – they were sober now. There were different rules.

She found her underwear hanging by a leg hole on the corner of the television, and pulled them on one-handed. Bellamy threw her bra over, from where he’d encountered it on the window sill. She reluctantly dropped the covers now, to strap it on, and continued the search for her clothes.

“So,” Bellamy started as Clarke pulled her dress the right way out. “What are we going to do?” Clarke shrugged.

“We’re legally married,” she replied. “There’s not much we can do.”

“Annulment?” He suggested, and there was a bitter tone to his voice. She glanced over to him, just in a pair of jeans, sitting on the end of his bed.

“I think that’s for when you haven’t had sex,” she replied with a shrug.

“So, divorce,” he corrected, looking pointedly at the duvet, puddled on the floor.

“Unless you want to stay married?” She asked, her voice light and slightly joking. He didn’t reply, however, so Clarke looked at him once more from where her dress was now around her ankles. He was biting his lower lip so hard he could draw blood, his eyes shut and his head hanging. Clarke watched him very carefully for a moment, before pulling her dress up around her legs. She forced her arms through the holes and adjusted the straps on her shoulders. “Zip me up?” She asked. Bellamy looked up now, and she knew the look in his eye well enough to tell that he was thinking deeply.

Clarke pulled her hair around to one shoulder as he nodded.

“Sure,” Bellamy mumbled, standing and walking over. Clarke turned away from him, her eyes trained on the door.

“Staying married is an option, you know,” she told him absently, focusing on the way his fingertips grazed her skin as he flattened out the fabric and tugged the zip up her dress.

“I have a girlfriend,” he replied in a strained voice. Clarke shut her eyes tightly for a moment, taking a slow breath.

“You have a wife, too,” she informed him, turning to face Bellamy. Clarke let her hair fall about her back again, gazing at him determinedly. Guilt drowned Bellamy’s features, and Clarke reached out, taking his left hand in her right. She squeezed it gently, running her thumb over the wedding ring. “The timing is both terrible and perfect,” she told him slowly. “But being married to you isn’t a bad situation for me.”

“What?” He questioned, confusion playing across his features.

“I’m a tiny bit in love with you,” Clarke admitted. They both stayed very silent for a moment, and it was like even the air particles had stopped moving. “And by ‘a tiny bit’, I mean ‘a whole lot’.” Bellamy nodded now, nodded to himself more than to her, as if he was thinking over every aspect of his life.

It was sudden, then, when he pulled her towards him by their locked hands, and met her lips with his. The kiss was very different from the one they’d shared the night before. It was gentle, now; slow and meaningful; his hand slipping from hers and cupping her face, weaving his fingers through her hair as she tugged him closer towards her. Clarke wanted the feel of his skin back on her; his mouth on hers, her neck, her stomach, her thighs. She smiled into him, before pushing forward as much as possible. Their mouths opened, and Clarke had never felt so happy kissing before; his tongue swirling around hers was something she’d never thought could feel so great.

When they pulled away, their lips were swollen and her chest was heaving under her dress.

“I’m a tiny bit in love with you, too,” Bellamy told her, running his hands gently down her cheeks and around her body. He pulled her into an embrace and they held each other tightly for a moment before he laughed. “We’re married, Clarke.” She couldn’t help but laugh, as well, pulling back and pushing her hair away from her face.

“We’re married,” she repeated. “Shit, Bell.” They were both grinning though, and Bellamy looked away for a moment before turning back to her.

“We could stay married,” he told her evenly, as if he’d come up with the idea himself, and she hadn’t said it only minutes beforehand. Clarke nodded.

“We could.”

“Well?” He asked, taking her hands in his and swinging them between the two of them.

“Well what?”

“Staying married,” he prompted. “Do you want to do that?” Clarke pursed her lips, trying to look in thought even though this was what she’d wanted for the longest time.

“That’s not much of a proposal,” she mused. “Last night I even got down on one knee and everything – which is hard to do in heels.” He stared at her openly for a moment, and she shrugged in reply. “What?”

“ _You_ proposed to _me_?” Clarke shrugged again, looking away.

“They say that being drunk doesn’t affect people’s thoughts,” she told him. “It affects the behaviour – so if a person has thought about doing something sober, they’re likely to do it when they’re drunk.”

Bellamy’s smile was blinding and he pressed another kiss to her lips, short and sweet before pulling away. He wore his grin as he held her hands together, moving down onto one knee.

“Clarke Griffin,” he started.

“Griffin-Blake,” she corrected, and he raised an eyebrow at her. “I remember signing the certificate, okay?” If it were possible, his smile grew even wider.

“Clarke Griffin-Blake,” he amended. “I’ve been a whole lot in love with you for almost two years now. You’re my best friend in the world, and you know me well enough to know how much of a baby I am when I’m sick, and that I order my books by author _and_ genre, and that I do better singing in the shower if I’m harmonising.” Clarke laughed, and Bellamy shook his head for a moment. “Will you do me the honour of staying my wife?” Clarke grinned at him, crouching down before moving forward and pressing her mouth against his.

“Yes,” she told him happily. “Yes, yes, yes.”

 

They told their friends about an hour later, after promptly undressing and redoing their wedding night over, in a way in which both of them could remember it. After that, they found the wedding certificate, folded into a messy square in Clarke’s wallet that he fished out of his jeans pocket. Their friends were all in the restaurant on the ground floor of the hotel, sitting in wait.

Bellamy and Clarke arrived after getting changed, his arm wrapped around her shoulders.

“You two look happy,” Raven commented. Octavia nodded in the seat next to her.

“Happier than normal,” Jasper agreed, sitting with Monty across from the two girls. Bellamy and Clarke took their seats with a shrug.

“Not every day you get married,” Clarke mused, and the newlyweds watched as Jasper knocked over his glanced and Octavia’s fork hit the plate so hard the china cracked. They had a lot of explaining to do, but it was accepted easier than expected. They had the rest of their Vegas trip as the first part of their honeymoon (part two was scheduled for the summer, a couple of months away), and Bellamy phoned Roma after breakfast to explain the situation and break up with her in the kindest way he could. When they returned to Ark, it was also fairly easy to create a chain of people, from Clarke’s bedroom, to Bellamy’s across the hall, passing her stuff between each other so she could move into the same place as her husband.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. Please click the kudos button, and tell me in the comments all of your thoughts about this. THANKS


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